Somebody's Heartbreak
by MyUnlikelyHero
Summary: He became painfully aware of the aching whole in his chest, the void that could never be filled again. A hundred names of one girl filled his head before he could stop it; Alexandra Colby: Alex, Alexi, Lexi, Ally, Ally Cat, Ally Bear, Xandra… Amazing. But now Dean would never get the chance. Possible deathfic. OC.


_It was dark, and cold, Dean's heart pounding hard against his chest. He looked around the dark room, abandoned and empty, save for one girl. Tied to a pipe that jutted from the wall, dressed in the same jeans and blue tee shirt as that morning, she was a sight for sore eyes. He rushed over, tucking his handgun safely in the back of his jeans. _

"_Lexi?" He whispered, dropping to his knees beside on her the cold concrete floor. He grabbed his pocketknife, cutting the dirty rope from her arms. They dropped limply, the blood around her wrists seemed to brighten in contrast to her pale skin. He didn't remember her being this pale. _

"_Alexandra? Sweetheart, are you okay?" He took her freckled cheek in his hand, caressing it softly, trying to get her attention. She remained limp. "Wake up now, come on." Dean's words where sharper now, fear overwhelming him. His hands shook as he took her pulse. There was nothing, except the hand-shaped bruises around her throat. They had choked her to death._

_Dean pulled her against his chest, holding her tight. She was so cold. He didn't remember her being this cold. This wasn't supposed to happen. Alexandra wasn't supposed to die degraded and beaten, tied to a cold pipe, lying on the cold ground. She was supposed to become an author, writing supernatural, science-fiction horror stories, marry a nice man, have kids, and get old with no regrets. Or quickly in a battle, saving those she loved. Those where her dreams, her two plans in life. Not choked to death because she had demon blood in her. Her and Sam weren't evil, weren't meant to be hunted. No, she couldn't die like this. _

_Dean didn't know he was crying until Sam came running in, gun drawn and expecting the worst. Dean looked up at his brother, who had frozen on the spot. _

"_Sam." Dean whispered the word out like a prayer, begging him to say that this was a joke. Some sick prank that he and Lexi had planned for the prank he had pulled on her that morning. He vowed to never prank either of them again, remembering her surprised face when she bit into a hot-sauce/ghost chili laced breakfast burger. He begged for her to wake up, screaming loudly at the ceiling, cursing God and everything in existence. He struggled as Sam tried to pull him away, tried to calm him down to rational thought. Dean pulled away, wrapping what was left of his best friend in his arms, and holding her like a lifeline, begging-_

Dean came awake with a small gasp, shaking and cold in the hot hotel room. Sam lay in the next bed, still sleeping blissfully. Dean sat up, his feet on the floor, and rested his elbows on his knees, head in hands. He gasped a few shaking breaths for a moment or two before he calmed down. He became painfully aware of the aching whole in his chest, the void that could never be filled again. A hundred names of one girl filled his head before he could stop it; _Alexandra Colby: Alex, Alexi, Lexi, Ally, Ally Cat, Ally Bear, Xandra… Amazing._ That's what he should have called her. Amazing. But now Dean would never get the chance.

Silently, he stood, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't get her face out of his head. Her teasing him, nose wrinkled. Her brown eyes bright, head thrown back in full-out laughter; Her black hair a mess as she answered the door in her pajamas, obviously been asleep; Her face a mask of shock and pain and heartbreak when they couldn't save somebody. He remembered her just like that: Happy, energetic, full of life, with a glass bottle of Coke (her favorite) in one hand and a shotgun in the other, her pistol tucked away under her jeans and shirt. The two of them, sitting in the Impala, speeding down highways like Bonny and Clyde.

Dean looks back at his brother, sure he is sleeping, and gets dressed, and walks out the door, keys tightly in hand. He walks out to the parking lot, intent on a walk to clear his head but finds himself staring at the old truck beside the impala. A dusty orange, covered brown from mud and dust, dents from miles of wear and tear with a large white tool box that covered the top part of the bed. Dean had thought it was the ugliest truck in the universe, and it had been a favorite of Dean's to tease Lexi about. Dean walked towards it, eyes flickering over several of the dents, remembering when and where they got them. He opened the driver's door and sat down, relishing the fact that they had been the same height almost exactly so he didn't need to adjust the seat.

A bandana hung from the rear-view mirror, a paper bag half full of empty Coke glasses sat on the floor of the passenger seat, next to a pair of muddy boots, and a thick Carhartt coat with a pair of gloves and a winter hat laying beside them. Her favorite camouflage baseball cap sat on the dash, well worn and a little dirty. Dean smiled sadly, taking in the fact that he would never be able to tease her about her old Ford ever again. Almost smiling in reminiscence of her, he pulled open the glove box. It held a back of Marlboro Blacks, half-empty. She hadn't had a habit, but when they where laughing, and cruising a back road for the hell of it, off duty and having fun, she would light one. Just like she would pop on the radio as loud as it would go, and roll down both of the windows, her arm resting on the edge, her hat holding her black hair back, showing off dark brown eyes and freckles against lightly tanned skin.

Beside those lay her favorite Zippo lighter, a few scattered condoms, various pencils and pens and a small notepad with a phone charger. The registration and insurance. He picked up the Zippo, thumbing over the pattern just like Lexi when she was nervous and chewing her cheek.

There was an old photo of her, Bobby, Sam and himself, clipped to the sun vizier. When Dean had gotten electrocuted and had only weeks to live, Alexandra had scoured the earth looking for a cure, staying up for nights on end until Sam had stumbled upon that healer. After he had gotten better, Alex had hauled them down to Bobby's, intent on pictures. She had said that she wanted a picture for old times sake, to remind her of her friends. She had called them family, gathered them together, and made them pose the hell out Bobby's front room. She had taken a whole bunch of pictures, and put them in an album. She was never seen without a camera within easy reach, developing the film every chance she got.

Dean got out, and opened the box in the back, sitting on the edge of the bed. She had her weapons there, and her Get-Up-And-Go bag. It held two thousand dollars in bills, a life-saving med kit, two spares of clothes, soap, and fire-starting necessities with ammo hidden in the bottom. Dean thought she was crazy for carrying her life in a bag, but there it was. She had claimed that more than once she had needed this, and it had been true. Buried in the bottom with the ammo was the picture album, stuffed full, with a hunting journal and a diary. She kept her bag with her constantly, religiously, like Sam with his duffel full of weapons. It brought tears to Dean's eyes. Bag in hand, Dean hopped out of the back, sitting in the truck again, where he felt closer to Lexi than he had since she left.

Sighing, Dean turned the car on, letting it idle while he turned on the heater against the cold Wyoming night and listened to the last CD she had in, _I Drive Your Truck_ by Lee Bryce came on, playing like a message from heaven or hell. Dean listened for a moment, and when the song ended, he smiled. It continued to _Hard To Love_ and on and on until Dean had to replay the entire CD. He felt the ache in his chest ease up, and he closed his eyes, smiling contently and let the heat of his hand warm the Zippo lighter in his fingers. He missed Lexi so bad it hurt, but as he sat in her truck he let the anger wash out of him, and he leaned his head back against the seat and went to sleep, finally at peace.

Not sure if this is a deathfic or not. Had my room mate/ editor Miss Emily read it and she thought Dean died of carbon monoxide poisoning because he left the car running with the heater. I will neither accept or deny this accusation, take that as you will. ANYWAYS! My Legolas story is on Hiatus, I'm sorry. Please review! XOXO


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